


Gone West

by ackermom



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post chapter 89, not Levi/Eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 17:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermom/pseuds/ackermom
Summary: Eren and Levi reconcile after the events on the rooftop.





	Gone West

**Author's Note:**

> alternative title: how to come to terms with the results of the serum bowl arc

The grass at headquarters is overgrown. It must have been weeks since somebody bothered to take care of it. The weeds are wild too; dandelions have sprung up in every crack of the cobblestone courtyard, and large, scrawling vines have begun their ascent up the old stone walls. Everything is out of use, out of care. This place was forgotten, briefly, amidst the world. It was left to fend for itself against the weather and the rats, and it has not fared well. But its heart has returned at last.

Eren stands in the center of the courtyard for a long time. Headquarters is quiet these days, even after the Survey Corps has returned: what’s left of the Survey Corps, anyways. There aren’t enough of them to fill the barracks or the mess hall, so they sleep in officers’ chambers and eat in the meeting rooms. It doesn’t matter what they do. No one is going to stop them, anyways. On most days, Hange is away; there are so many things that need her attention and she has so little time. Otherwise, they are left to their own: well, almost their own.

Eren wanders inside when the wind grows too cold, and he finds himself trailing up the stairs to Levi’s room. It’s empty when he pushes the door in: and not just empty, but bare. But it’s what he expected, so he shuts the door to keep out dust and moves on. They have hardly seen him since they returned from the last expedition. He thought… well, he doesn’t know what he thought, other than that things might be different now. And things are different, just not in the way he expected. He comes to the end of the corridor, his feet trailing absentmindedly along the floor. On the level below, he can hear conversation: the others have returned from the market. But his gaze turns up the stairs instead, up to the next level, where a ghost lingers at the top, beckoning him with the distant noise of a broom shuffling along the floor. He stands there for a moment more, as he has done so many times before, wondering if he should approach. They haven’t spoken much since they got back. But it’s left him unfinished, unsettled; he has things to say and things to ask. So he climbs the stairs to the top and enters the room without knocking.

It’s a mess. The shelves have been emptied of their books, which now lie in scattered piles on the wooden floor. There are boxes and folders and trinkets stacked on the couch on the far wall, on the table by the door, on the chair behind the desk. The curtains have been removed, and the grey sunlight streams into the room, casting long shadows across the floor.

Levi glances up, a broom tight in his hands. “I’m cleaning,” is all he says.

A sinking pit sits in Eren’s stomach, and he suddenly wishes he had never come here. “I can tell,” he says quietly. “Do you need help?”

Levi sweeps in silence, drawing the brush across the floor in swift strokes. Eren stands at the door, waiting. He stands there for what feels like forever, and just as he’s about to turn around and dart back down the stairs, Levi sets the broom down and wipes his hands off.

“No,” he says. He turns his back to Eren and crosses to the desk, where a pile of sorted books have been slowly making their way into a carefully organized box. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Eren lies. He steps further into the room, unwrapping his cloak. He gestures to a pile of books at the foot of the desk. “Are you sorting those too?”

Levi glances up. “No,” he mutters, turning back to the box. “Those are Hange’s.”

Eren stands in the center of the room, his cloak hanging awkwardly off one arm, and he looks around at the remnants of the office. There was an old woman on his street, when he was a kid, who was dying slowly. It was only a matter of time before she was gone, and the neighbors took advantage of her. He remembers watching from the window as they took her life, one bit at a time: first, it was the chickens; then the gardening shears, then anything else lying out in the open. She wasn’t even dead before people scavenged her house.

That is what this feels like: taking a person’s life apart, one piece at a time, until there is nothing left of them.

Levi works in silence, and Eren crosses to the couch. He sets his cloak down on the back, then shuffles some books and papers aside to make a space for himself to sit. He is quiet for a moment, glancing around, still taking in the condition of this office.

He glances back to Levi. “What are you going to do with all this stuff?”

Levi inserts another book into the box; he’s stacking them carefully together, organized by shape and size, by whatever will fit. He doesn’t answer.

Eren glances down at his hands, at his bruises and blisters. “Listen,” he starts. His voice is soft, quiet, but the room is small enough, still enough, that he is sure Levi can hear him. “I, uh, I wanted to talk about what happened at Shiganshina.“

Levi says nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Eren says into the silence. “So is Mikasa.”

He glances up at Levi, who continues to fill the box.

“We know we were out of line,” Eren says, “but we-“

He cuts himself off, his breath suddenly short. “I thought Armin was going to die,” he says. “And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything to save him.”

He looks back to his hands, to their cracks and bruises. “I just wanted to let you know that we know we were wrong- I mean, what we did was wrong, and we’re sorry, both of us.”

He pauses. “I’m still grateful. We both are. We couldn’t imagine if Armin-“

He sucks in a breath.

He glances up again, pursing his lips.

“Armin is sorry, too,” Eren says quietly.

For the first time, Levi makes any indication that he has been listening to what Eren has been saying. He scoffs, then mutters, “Armin has nothing to apologize for.”

“He feels guilty,” Eren says, raising his voice to be heard. “He knew he was going to die. I mean, he’s grateful to be alive, but he knows that it came at a price-“

“If he’s looking for someone to blame,” Levi grumbles, pushing another book in place, “tell him he can blame me.”

“He doesn’t want to blame you.”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s not the point, Levi,” Eren says. The name feels strange on his tongue, and he’s not sure he’s ever used it so informally before; it surprises him when it comes out of his mouth. But if it bothers Levi, then he doesn’t let it show. Things are different now, anyways.

“He’s not looking for anyone to blame,” Eren continues. “He’s looking for answers.”

He hesitates, then adds, “We all are.”

He doesn’t want to ask, but he needs to know. He clasps his hands together; they stick together with sweat, and he pulls them apart, rubs them on the couch, and glances back up at Levi.

“Why did you do it?” Eren asks, his voice soft. His words linger in the air for a long moment; Levi stops to listen, his hands stilled over the books, but he doesn’t turn around, and he doesn’t answer. Eren tries again. “Why did you choose Armin?”

“You’re asking this now?” is the grumbled response he gets.

“I’m just trying to understand,” Eren says. He hesitates, searching for delicate words; but he finds none, so he just speaks his mind. “Of course, I wanted to give the serum to Armin, and I’m glad that we did. But I don’t understand why you changed your mind. I thought we were going to fight over it.”

Levi grunts. “We did fight over it. I had a sword held to my neck.”

“I mean, I thought we were really going to have to fight you for it. I thought one of us would have to die for it.”

“Would you die for Armin?”

Eren raises his eyebrows. “Of course,” he says. Then his eyes darken and he says, “I have.”

“Then you should understand.”

“I don’t-“ Eren exclaims, but he cuts himself off, frustrated. He furrows his brow, trying to piece together his thoughts, trying to make a picture out of the puzzle.

“I still don’t understand,” he continues after taking a breath. “I just don’t get why you changed your mind like that. I mean, your face when you saw that the Commander was still alive-“

“Why does it matter, Eren?” Levi says, finally turning around to face him head on. He looks tired, as usual, but the bags under his eyes are heavier, darker, and his voice is softer. He doesn’t seem angry: just defeated. “You got what you wanted: Armin’s alive. And we have much bigger things to worry about now, anyways. Why does this matter so much to you?”

Eren hesitates before answering, his mind racing. He swallows, then says, “You had to have a reason.”

Levi’s gaze searches over his face. “You mean, a motive.”

“I didn’t say that,” Eren says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You think I had other reasons for making that choice?”

“I just think you’re not telling me the truth,” Eren exclaims. “The whole truth.”

Levi stares at him then, and Eren immediately dislikes the quiet gaze that bores into him. Levi doesn’t say anything, not for a moment or two. Eren’s eyes flicker away, to the floor, to the books, to the sad way the sunlight shines on dust across the windowsill, but he always comes back to meet Levi’s eyes. He seems unsteady, uncertain. Eren doesn’t know quite what to make of it, but after a moment of intense silence, he gets the feeling that Levi may not know the whole truth either.

“Mikasa would have killed me to get her hands on that serum,” Levi says finally. He leans back against the desk and crosses his arms. “She got close, too.”

“She’s sorry,” Eren mutters, but Levi shushes him.

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“Sorry.”

“My point is,” Levi continues, “she didn’t hesitate. She never would. She never has. That’s not the first time she’s nearly killed me trying to save one of your asses.”

“I know that,” Eren says. “That doesn’t explain-“

“She would do anything for you two,” Levi says, “anything to keep you out of harm’s way, to prevent you from suffering any further than you already have.”

He says that like it means something, like it’s holding the answers that Eren came here looking for. Then he turns back to the desk, seemingly satisfied, and continues piling books in silence.

Eren furrows his brow. “I still don’t…”

He trails off, watching Levi work methodically, and waits for him to notice the silence and clarify. But he says nothing, does nothing, just keeps stacking books into boxes with his back to Eren.

“I’m not sure that helped,” Eren says, louder.

Levi doesn’t turn around. “Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older.”

They stay in that silence for few minutes more. A gentle breeze blows in through the open window and shakes some of the papers lying on the floor. Levi finishes with one box, and just as soon as it’s packed up, he begins another, sorting through an endless stack of books to fit the ones that will best fit together. Eren watches him, watches the silver sunlight dance on the floor, until finally he lets out a long breath and stands up.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” he asks, tugging his cloak back over his shoulders. “It’s not like I have anything else to do, and… Commander Erwin had a lot of books.”

“It’s fine, Eren,” Levi says. “Go be with your friends.”

The sun has come out from behind the clouds when Eren steps back into the cobblestone courtyard, and he’s surprised to see the rest of his squad whacking at the weeds that have overgrown through the cracks in the stones. He joins them.


End file.
